You Don't Know Me
by Irrelevancy
Summary: Bel was surprised to realize he doesn't know much about the sharkie, so now he's making a point to. Maybe future Squalo/Bel?
1. This MatterOfFact Realization

**A/N: Written for my darling Varia family over at crunchyroll~ Lesse... Bel, Mammon, Luss, Saki, Minage, Vi, Rina, Leo, and Fran~!**

**And Boss, too, of course. :P We all know you're a closet yaoi fanboy, darlin'~**

**A HUGE APOLOGY TO CURRICULUM VITAE READERS. I swear to God, I'll finish the new chapter by tonight, whatever it takes... TT^TT**

**Disclaimer: Had Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belonged to me, why, I'd be up in heaven, circling around with all the yaoi angels there. But obviously, I'm not.**

**...Or am I?**

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**Ever since Bel joined the Varia at the tender age of eight, he's found the group of oddballs and psychopaths amusing enough to be within his royal presence. After leaving all his possessions (all his _toys_) behind when he staggered out of his homeland, drenched in blood and breathless with excitement, he's definitely found new toys in his new "family"- the Arcobaleno had squishy cheeks, and the new Froggy never ceased to annoy the crap (a.k.a. amuse the heck) out of him.

While Squalo may not be his absolute favorite (the man was just _way too loud,_ for Royalty's sake), the sharky was an endless source of entertainment. The man, Belphegor discovered four days into his stay at the Varia mansion, had a decidedly soft spot for those weaker than him-

(So he's more likely to kill them in their sleep than do the scary-looming-approach-in-a-back-alley-of-Venice thing he does with most of his targets.)

-and somehow, the sharky had rewired his brain into thinking the Prince was weaker than him.

If the misunderstanding didn't have as satisfying results as it did, Bel would've sorted it out _decades_ ago.

Maybe Squalo's watched one too many heart-warming family movies, or it was his inner uke instincts, but he seemed to be under the impression Bel had to be taken care of. Now, Bel's not saying he didn't want attendants and servants to obey his every whim (he liked to have them, but didn't _need_ them), but the sharky's version of care was this subtle, but intense mothering that made Bel want to laugh. Or cry. Or do both.

Honestly, did Squalo not realize Bel _knows_ he comes into his room every night to grab his mission reports and hand them to Boss, reading them on the way? Did he not know that Bel's watched him go out of his way on a mission just to ensure no trouble would come onto the Prince when his massacre-mode was triggered by a lucky/stray shot by an enemy? Belphegor saw _everything_. He was the Prince, after all.

So one day, he decided, Enough. It was time to put a stop to Squalo's ceaseless caring for him. Bel's noted that only he received this care too. Mammon, though much younger than any of them, was barely associated with the shark as it is, and Fran, the new guy, received care, sure, but was more likely to be dumped on someone else than taken care of by Squalo himself. And now, even after 18 years, Squalo's never stopped this special treatment to Bel, and he figured it was time it all ended. Bel's grown up. Grown way up, and didn't need the babying anymore.

"Good evening, Sharky."

Squalo froze midstep reaching for the mission reports on the table. A split second later, he was facing Bel with a deadly scowl on his face.

"Vooii..." Bel supposed this was the quietest he'd ever hear the shark. "I thought you were asleep, brat."

"Shishishi... Then you've obviously thought wrong~" The Prince's cheshire grin was glowing by the pale moonlight, much like the headful of silken silver hair Squalo sported. With a dirty look not fitting with his feminine appearance, Squalo ripped the missions up from the tabletop, and prepared to walk out.

"Whatever, brat..." Bel heard him mutter as he shook his head. "Just go to sleep already."

"You know, sharky, you don't have to act like my mother all the time."

It was the second time tonight that Squalo had frozen, and the Prince figured it probably wasn't all that good for his muscles. So he eases out of his bed in his giant white t-shirt/pajamas and tugs on the back of the swordsman's uniform. Squalo followed the pull compliantly (surprisingly) and sat down on the bed next to Bel. The gaze he offered the Prince was intense and undecipherable in the dead of night, and Bel was left to speculate on what the swordsman sought in staring at him so deeply.

"Voooiii, brat..." Squalo finally sighed. "What the hell are you talking about...?"

"You've came in my room every night for the past 18 years every time I'm done with a mission," Bel said.

"To grab your report so Xanxus doesn't shoot me to death the next morning when you don't get it to him fast enough," Squalo replied matter-of-factly.

"...You always clean up after me during the missions, and sometimes even before," the Prince continued defensively. Squalo looked slightly incredulous.

"Do you know how much paperwork goes into a single unorthodox murder, brat?"

"No, and I don't care," Bel huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, pouting for good measure. No way. The Prince is never wrong. Sharky _was_ giving him special treatment. He just didn't want to admit it. "You treat me specially, Squalo. Don't deny it."

"I'm not denying it."

Had that golden fringe of feather-soft hair not been covering Bel's eyes, the swordsman would've been able to see the innocent surprise reflecting in gray orbs. "You're not?"

"Of course not." Squalo shrugged and stood up, yanking the comforter out from beneath Bel. The Prince gave a little yelp before resigning to let himself be tucked into bed by a slightly too-forceful shark. "I'd be surprised if you haven't noticed it."

"...Then what's this whole argument about?"

Bel was genuinely confused, and was even more so by the "Are you fucking with me?" look on Squalo's face when he looked up.

"The point- Look. Brat." Bel didn't like the tone the sharky took, frowning, and pinched Squalo on the arm for good measure. The swordsman gave a hiss, but didn't retaliate, instead continued. "_Special_ is just a term you're using and blowing way out of context. Special just means different than others. It's rather essential to talk to everyone differently, treat everyone differently- for better or for worse. Understand?"

"...If you're trying to talk about diplomacy..." Bel offered generously. Squalo just smirked.

"Ah. So you do know what I'm talking about. Good boy."

The Prince huffed at the comment, but quickly turned his annoyance into surprise when he registered what Squalo had just said.

"Shishi... The sharky knows about diplomacy~? That's unexpected..." Bel snuggled deeper into his bed for maximum comfort. "I didn't think you were capable of thinking outside of fighting, Squalo~"

That night was a full moon (so Bel's noticed upon hindsight), after all, so he guess the swordsman's strange out-of-character scoff could be blamed on that. As can the strange, but so matter-of-fact reply Squalo gave a moment later.

"You don't know much of anything about me, Bel. No one does."

So as Belphegor laid in bed thinking that night, after Squalo had shoved his back once and left, he came to a conclusion- the perfect solution to get back his Princeliness after that somewhat shameful encounter he had with the resident sharky.

Thus was born Belphegor's self-appointed mission of learning all he can about one Superbi Squalo.

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**A/N: Because let's face it, how much does anyone really know about Squalo?**

**Reviews are heaven to me~! Just like XS~!**


	2. Three Day Gauntlet

**A/N: Addle-headed... _**

**Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn was mine yesterday. Sadly, I wanted that twix bar, and sold it on eBay.**

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The first step in proving Squalo was wrong, Bel decided, was to make a list of everything he knew about the sharky. It couldn't be that hard, right? After all, he _was_ the Prince, and princes knew everything. So it was a perfectly well thought-out Plan A. Bel even went out of his way to grab a piece of paper and a pen from the froggy's desk for formality's sake.

_1. The stupid sharky made a sappy promise of some sort to Boss about making him the Tenth and growing his hair, which has absolutely nothing to do with the mafia, much less Vongola, the Prince is sure._

_2. The idiot sharky was a supposed genius at swordplay, and defeated the Sword Emperor Tyr when he was fourteen, chopping off his own left hand in the process to make the battle "even", or some useless sentimental crap or another. Then he went around China and Russia beating the crap out of every single swordsman he could find in order to "perfect his own skills". Loads of BS. Had the Prince been in his position, I wouldn't have needed any of that special training or whatever~ After all, I am a genius, shishishi~_

Bel looked down at the sheet of paper, finishing his signature laugh with flourish, then instantly frowned. Two? There were only two things he knew about Squalo? That couldn't be true. There's gotta be at least three - the magic number that defines much of everything in the universe.

After a moment's hesitation (that he'd never admit to), Bel put the tip of the pen down again.

_3. Sharky's an idiot that I don't know anything about._

With a silent groan, Bel dropped his head onto the table with a thump, looking sideways with narrowed eyes at the measly three. He didn't like being proved wrong. Sharky couldn't know about this.

A flash of silver, and the paper was yanked from underneath his head.

_Hello, karma. I thought we had an agreement._

"Voooiiiii, what the hell is this?" Despite his rough words, Squalo's eyes held an amused grin. Ice blue eyes, Bel notices now. With a special flavor of cold flames lightning them up like they can do for no one else.

_4. Sharky had stupidly mesmerizing eyes that focuses on anything in front of him with such intensity, they could burn._

"Ushishishi~ Doesn't sharky wish he knew~?"

It seems like Squalo was smarter than Bel first suspected, also. He knew when he had enough ammunition to stun the Prince out of an attack, and also the perfect way to use it. Squalo smirked and turned his gaze back onto the accursed paper.

"Hmph! It looks like you're trying to write down everything you know about me!" Even thick golden bangs couldn't filter the smugness Squalo sported out of sight, out of mind. "And failing at it, too, vooiii!"

With a little frown, Bel reached up and yanked the paper out of the swordsman's hands, tearing it to shreds and crumpling it up into a ball, then proceeded to use it as a not-so-threatening projectile weapon against said swordsman. Squalo didn't even blink when the ball flew past his head in an inelegant lump. "Shut up, sharky. The Prince is never wrong."

"Well you're wrong this time," the swordsman replied brusquely. "Look, brat, just give it up, okay? There's no way you can learn everything about me in the next, I don't know, week."

This definitely got the Prince's attention. Was the sharky underestimating him? How dare he. The Prince was a genius, and _he was the Prince_. Once a challenge has been thrown, there was no way Bel wasn't going to pick it up.

_5. Sharky's pride was contagious, just like chicken pox._

"I don't need a week, sharky. Give me five- no, _three_ days, and I'll write you your biography."

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**A/N: Kind of short chapter, but I want to hurry up and get to Curriculum Vitae...**

**Review, pretty please~? You'll find out more about Squalo~!**


	3. It Must Be Done

**A/N: I'm... quite disappointed at the lack of plot development right now.**

**But hey~! On the bright side, I am now officially a student at School of the Arts, in the Creative Writing department. I'll be receiving official instructions on writing, now, and maybe they won't be so dismal.**

**Enjoy this chapter...! I plan to update really quick, but... It's a new school, and I won't bore you with my sob story, but basically, I'm tied up.**

**Metaphorically.**

**Kind of.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned the beautiful wonderful cast of Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, I would have access to the newest chapters without fail. *Sobs***

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**In order to fulfill his promise to Squalo, Bel knew what he had to do. Sure, it was unthinkable, practically impossible. But _nothing_ - and he emphasizes _nothing_ - was impossible for the Prince. No. He _couldn't_ let anything be impossible. And this... This was something he had to do.

After all, such a simple task couldn't be _that_ hard, could it?

Taking a deep breath, Bel reached forward with a tentative hand, fingertips closing gingerly around the corner of one of many dusty manila folders piled in the corner of his room...

Oh, lord, it was burning already.

**Name: Maia Ipp**

**Estimated Age: 32**

**Appearance: 5'5" French female. Waist-length blonde hair with brown lowlights. Brown eyes, high cheekbones, long nose, pointed chin, small ears.**

**Others: Constantly reported to wear fake eyelashes and ostentatious makeup, including but not limited to electric blue eyeshadow, pink lipstick, and glimmering blush. Seen on occasions with silver and gold wedding ring.**

**Location: Tomatina CineClub, 54th and Laurent Ave. Venice, Italy.**

Contrary to popular belief, mission reports didn't contain the target's full biography. There was no need, after all. The job of the assassin was to get in, kill, and get out. No need to get emotionally burdened with the family reports of the target (not that Bel would be particularly perturbed by it - in fact, he'd probably be happier there were more people he could kill). All they needed was name, appearance, and location, if it could be provided. The system worked best if kept simple, and Varia was the best there was. The most skilled, the most (in)famous, the most discreet-

_CRASH._

Everything happened in an instant, and Bel was behind Fran, arm latched around his neck with a knife poking at the pale skin in warning. The illusionist looked rather shell-shocked - not at the current threat on his life, per say, but at where his sempai was and what he was holding just a moment ago...

"Tell anything you saw me, Froggy, and I'll make you _beg_ for me to kill you."

Just as quickly, the Prince had gone, and Fran was left standing in the doorway of Belphegor's room, with a tiny trickle of blood running down the front of his jacket.

Maia Ipp's death sentence fluttered to the floor.

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**A/N: ...Why is it so short?**

**;_;**

**I'll definitely update the next one quickly, because I have everything plann-**

**No. I can't lie. I'm sorry. I have nothing planned. This whole story is currently and will be written upon impulse.**

**I do, however, have the next chapter thought up. I have no idea, however, how to dig up Squalo's entire back story in three days (thanks, Bel. Thanks a lot for setting that deadline). I do apologize, just in case, for the possible "crammed-ness" of the plot. I have to make it all happen in three days, after all.**

**...OTL**

**PLEASE REVIEW. THEY ARE MY LIFE ELIXER, AND I THRIVE WHEN I GET REVIEWS.**

**When I don't thrive, I tend to stop writing things with plot, so... yeah.**


	4. Via Questionable Mission

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**A/N: This chapter goes out to my darling Byakuran. Why, beside the fact that she's awesome as all heck?**

**I'm the most out of character Squalo right now, because I have to be serious in an RP fight... So I'm crackin' up everything else. My brain's literally dead when it comes to writing right now, because I'm so damn overwhelmed by school.**

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_BANG._

Squalo would have looked up from his desk, his scowl not quite so menacing with his eyes wide with shock. He would've stared straight up at Bel's smug grin, then the gigantic pile of manila folders the prince threw onto his desk, then back at Bel again, to fall at the prince's feet, and tell him everything he needed to know.

Squalo _would have_, had he been in his room.

With a little hum of annoyance, Bel stared for a second, at the pile of completed mission files (he should have done a couple of months ago) on Squalo's desk, then gave a small, almost inaudible sigh. The completed missions were supposed to be the bargaining chip for permission to search Squalo's room. Usually, Bel wouldn't need permission, of course, but on this occasion, Bel needed more than permission. He needed guarantee for his life, and if the Sharky was any bit as smart as Bel now peg him as, he would've set up traps to prevent anyone from searching his room, and finding some classified information.

Classified information that Bel needed.

After a few moments of contentrated contemplation, Bel had made up his mind. He was the Prince. He didn't fear the Sharky, or any traps he might've set. Nothing could escape his princely eyes, after all, and he was sure to catch even the tiniest out-of-place thing...

Bel threw open the closet, and heard the sound of a needle falling to the wooden paneling.

Without a moment to spare, the prince ran at a speed that would've defied slow-motion cameras everywhere, on which all that would've appeared is a blond shadow with a suspicious glitter on his head. Once he figured he was a safe distance away, he waited. Waited for something to burst into flames, to blow into smithereens, or even a bright flash of light or smoke. Nothing came (much to his disappointment), and Bel was left standing in the hallway of Varia manor, slightly dumbfounded as to why the heck Sharky would do such an idiotic thing as a fake trap so cleverly hidden. The contagious pride of Squalo's burned within him, having all fell out a metaphoric window and died a sad, painful, and non-heroic death, and all Bel could think at the moment was how grateful he was that Squalo wasn't in his-

"...Brat."

"Fuck you too, God," Bel quickly muttered under his breath, before attempting to vault over the railing that fenced in the hallway up in the second level, but in his way was a silver sword, threatening the well-being of his nose with even a hair's breath of movement. Bel turned around with a strained grin.

"Sharky~! How's it going for you on this fine, fine day?"

When in doubt, act nonchalant, was it? Squalo raised a skeptical eyebrow, snarled something uncomprehensible under his breath, and grabbed the back of Bel's uniform with his left hand, leaving the sword dangerously close to the back of Bel's neck, and the prince figured it wasn't the best timing to kick Squalo's... _anything_, unless he wanted permanent paralysis via a severed spinal cord. He did, however, have a reputation to protect.

"It's all your fault, sharky," Bel murmured angrily. "You and your stupid room and missions and _pride_..."

"Oh, shut up," Squalo snapped, and tossed Bel unceremoniously into his room. _Squalo's_ room, that is, and the prince couldn't help but feel just a bit smug at what it meant. Apparently, though, the swordsman had x-ray vision, or super sensitivity (Bel was more willing to bet on the x-ray vision), and growled, "Voooiii! Wipe that grin off your face, brat, or I'll give you something to fucking grin about...!"

"Stupid sharky," Bel hummed, standing up and leaning closer to Squalo. "So tell me. Where is it?"

Squalo didn't even grant that question with a reply. He only stared mutedly, arms crossed over his chest, eyes quietly confused, but shadowed with rage. Bel gulped lightly, and leaned back half an inch.

"You want to show me something," the prince diplomatically reasoned.

"...How do you know I didn't drag you in here so I can kill you without a huge mess in the halls?" The swordsman's eyes narrowed threateningly, and Bel glared back (not that Squalo could've told).

"Because you wouldn't want a bloody mess in your room." Not that the sharky could've killed him in the first place, of course.

Squalo scoffed, looking aside in confidence, and Bel resisted the urge to pull out a knife.

...He _tried_ to resist the urge to pull out a knife.

The swordsman barely looked at the sharp weapon in the prince's hand, and grinned, baring his teeth at Bel. "Voooiiii, you stupid brat! I have about twenty pounds of fucking dynamite stuck under this room! I'll just get rid of it, and your corpse along with it!"

There had to be a law against the amount of conviction the sharky's voice, but, all things considered, even if there was, the Varia wouldn't care anyways (everything down to their _leather coats_ were illegal). Bel didn't believe there were explosives beneath the floor where he stood, but Squalo certainly did, and apparently, not just Squalo's pride was contagious, but everything he stood for and aspired to be. It wasn't fair. There couldn't possibly be explosives under the floor. There _couldn't_.

With a growl (it was a growl, dammit. No matter how high-pitched it was, it was still a growl...!), Bel hopped forward and latched his legs across Squalo's neck, spinning around so he sat comfortably on the sharky's shoulders. The knives he twirled with on a regular basis had their edges fixed on the swordsman's pulse point, pressing with a nagging pressure to remind Squalo who's life was in who's hands. "Tell me now, sharky, or I honestly won't hesitate to paint your walls with blood."

It not so much as _irked_, but downright _pissed Bel off_ to no end when Squalo didn't even flinch. Instead, the swordsman reached into his coat and pulled out a sheet of paper, handing it over his head to Bel. A mission file, it happened to be, and narrow, princely eyes scanned the contents quickly before throwing it back in disgust.

**Name: Irene Mason**

**Estimated Age: 44**

**Appearance: 5'3" Italian female. Curled black hair, dark blue eyes, pale skin. Thin, stretched physique, slanted eyes, long neck and legs.**

**Others: Seen with tortoiseshell glasses on various accounts. Wears expensive jewelry, known to carry a small hand gun on inner thigh holster. **

**Location: ?**

"Fuck this, shark-" Bel started to say, ready to start a bloodbath to protect his name, when Squalo interrupted, crunching the mission into a ball in his fist.

"If you want to learn about me..." Squalo's voice was low and guarded, but amused at the same time, and Bel found himself leaning in to listen. When he realized he had loosened his hold on Squalo in his concentration, though, it was too late, and the swordsman had already flipped him onto the queen-sized bed Squalo owned, and straddled his waist as he held the prince down. Squalo leered down at Bel, and tightened his hold on the prince's wrists.

"If you want to learn about me," he repeated. "Come on this mission with me."

"How do I know you're not just making me do more work?" Bel grounded out with a biting grin. Squalo barked out a laugh, harsh and despondent.

"Voooiii! Would you rather stay and search my room?"

"...Fine, sharky, mission it is. But the minute I feel overworked, you're never making it home."

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**A/N: Tadaa! A... vaguely substantial chapter...!**

**...At least I have plot production?**

**Don't expect much updates this week for ANYTHING, OTL. I'm sorry, any Curriculum Vitae readers, because I WILL do the requests, but I have a show coming up this Friday, and there's going to be A HELL LOT OF WORK.**

**-_-;;**

**I will continue writing, though? Most definitely! I love this fic, and I don't really wanna angstify it, but... I have a feeling there's gonna be a lot of pain on Squalo's part, for his past. x'DDD Or are there any suggestions? I welcome anything, especially since even I know nothing about my dear Squalo!**

**...OTL**

**Please leave a review, even just to say "You suck at updating!"**


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